


Murder On The Key

by cakessan



Series: Murder On The Key [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mystery, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 14:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakessan/pseuds/cakessan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Momoi Satsuki's body is found four years after her disappearance, Special Consultant Kagami Taiga is called in to work the revived cold case. As the case unfolds and leads him to the world of professional basketball, Kagami finds himself looking to Momoi's old friends to help him uncover her murderer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Free Throw

**Author's Note:**

> I finally had that "DING" moment when an idea that you've been playing with for years suddenly falls into place. Murder mysteries entertain me to no end, and somehow I found the Kurobas cast falling into roles for this story before I even knew that it was going to be a story. 
> 
> I'd like to note two things -
> 
> The first is that this is my first multi-chapter piece. I'm a one-shot kinda girl, mostly because when I get started with a story, I need to sit down and finish the whole thing. I appreciate any advice on chapter endings and beginnings and flow and just advice about my writing in general. 
> 
> Secondly, I apologize for any mistakes regarding subject-specific things (basketball, medical terminology, etc). I've done my research, but sometimes I decide that my ideas are better than reality. 
> 
> I thought that making the chapter names basketball-themed would be fun (and yes, they all actually correspond to the story!)
> 
> So enjoy, and don't hesitate to give me feedback!

_“You can’t touch this, you can’t touch this,_

_My, my, my music hits me so ha-“_

Alex must have changed my ring tone _again_. I make a mental note to murder her as I bring the buzzing phone to my ear.

“Kagami.”

“Taigaaaaaa. So nice of you to pick up.” How the _fuck_ did she sound this cheerful?

“MC Hammer? Really?” I yawn as I turn on my lamp and groan inwardly when I realize that it’s three in the morning. I close my eyes and pull up my duvet over my head and pray that she’s just calling for a consult.

“It’s a classic. Now get your ass down here. The Chief wants you.” With that, she hangs up. A second later, a text message appears: an address.

It’s time to go to work.

* * *

  


_Specialist Consultant for the Department of Homicide_

I remember when Alex first said it. It sounded so _fancy_. But at three-thirty on a damp Wednesday morning, it’s hard to focus on anything other than the realities of the job.

It’s just a long name for a cop without any of the perks of being a cop. No badge. No gun. No promotions.

Homicide specialist sounds so silly. Like Poirot or Sherlock or some shit. I basically work the dirty homicide cases that the department doesn’t have time to assign to their regular detectives. I’m also the go-to for detectives if things get hairy or complicated on their cases.

Still, I like to think I’m the extra piece that makes sure that the right guy goes behind bars. Maybe I’m giving myself too much credit, but I sure as hell try.

I’m a bit surprised when I realize that the address Alex gave me doesn’t exist. At least, it doesn’t exist _yet_. As I pull up in front of a half-erect apartment building, I’m waved past the barricade by a few familiar faces.

“You look beautiful.” Alex smirks, stuffing a cup of tepid, station-brewed coffee into my hand. She looks perfectly awake – it’s one of the perks of being Alex and looking like you just got out of bed all the time.

I follow her in silence, clutching at the cup and draining half of it in one go. “Who’s the victim?”

“Momoi, Satsuki.”

The name sounds vaguely familiar, and I frown as I try to jumpstart my sleep-addled brain. I’ve heard it before, I'm sure. But when?

“The first shift of construction workers found her body. They were clearing ground yesterday, and the rain must have washed away enough loose dirt. Anyways, they called us around two.” Alex stirs her coffee with a straw, yawning.

“Why are they working this early?”

“It’s a busy part of town. They can’t have the noise inconveniencing the office workers. The surrounding buildings paid the company to work on a night schedule. Anyways, we already got statements, and the medical examiner will be here soon. Hyuuga thought it might be a good idea of you got a look at the body. Technically it’s a cold case, but now that there’s a body-” She pauses thoughtfully. “Is it still a cold case?”

It was too early to squabble over terminology so I hand her my empty cup and duck under the yellow tape.

“Kagami!” The Chief of Police – Hyuuga Junpei – barks as I approach. “Examiner just got here so please be so kind as to grace us with your professional opinion before I kick your ass.”

Junpei is nice most of the time, but when things weren’t going smoothly, he turns into a real monster. “Sure thing, Chief.” I jog past him and approach the victim. The first thing I notice is the bright, candyfloss pink hair. It’s very long long, and it must have been very soft before… I kneel down. She must have been there a long time. Decomposition is evident, but the edge of the blue bag sticking out from under the dirt means that the body's been protected from the elements before the construction workers disturbed it. There’s no evident cause of death. I pull back on the bag, disturbing the wet dirt and expose more of her body. Whoever wrapped her up had done a good job. There’s no dirt anywhere. It’s going to make the ME’s job easier.

“Any thoughts?”

I glance down at the Chief and stick my hands in my pockets. “I need more information. Her name sounds familiar though.”

“She disappeared four years ago. There were all sorts of speculations regarding it.”

I frown. It was coming back to me now. “Some sports something right? Coach? One of the top teams in Japan?”

“Manager of a basketball team. We had some people approach us about an investigation, so we discreetly searched for her body. We never found it.” Hyuuga sighs.

I can feel his disappointment and frustration. “We have another shot at this,” I mutter quietly. I’m no good with reassurance.

He nods once. “You’re right. Let’s nail the son of a bitch.”

I can’t help smiling as we walk away to let the medical team examine and remove the body.

“So, what now?” I stifle a yawn and settle for rubbing my eye.

“We wait for the examiner’s report and then start asking questions.” Junpei stops and fiddles with his glasses as he glares up at me. I can’t help feel a little worried. “I’m going to leave the investigation to you. That way, I can hold off the press for a few days. And there won’t be any guilt to impede you from asking the tough questions.”

It’s clear that this case meant something to _someone_ , even if it hadn’t theoretically ever existed. I made a note of it. There would be ruffled feathers along the way… But I knew how to deal with ruffled feathers.

Or so I thought.

* * *

  
  
Basketball.

At least it was a sport that I was familiar with. Thank God it wasn’t… baseball. I never understood baseball.

I thumb through a basketball magazine from the year of Momoi’s death as I eat my third burger. It’s only noon, but I decided that I’d earned myself an early lunch. I’d swung home to pick up my laptop and gone to the library to see what I could dig up on our victim – and potential suspects. Since they didn’t allow food, I moved to the closest place with free Wi-Fi; it happened to be a diner.

It seems that Satsuki had been crafting winning teams since middle school. Something called the “Generation of Miracles”. They were just a bunch of kids, but apparently they had all done massive damage in the world of upper league middle- and high-school basketball. Some of them were even approached by national recruiters. But after the year of their graduation, their names disappeared from the magazines and sports editorials. Only Momoi continued to live in the world of basketball. Even at university she coached the men’s team – a top team – and became a manager for a national team at twenty-two. For the three years she managed Tochigi Brex, it won the national championship. She also did some modeling…

As far as I could tell, she had been a very smart, very talented, very beautiful young woman. The decomposing figure from that morning popped to mind, and I suddenly got angry. I put down what was left of my lunch and stared out of the window.

“Excuse me, man I borrow your phone?”

I look up, but don’t see anyone. Frowning, I decide that it must have been someone talking behind me. I shake my head and shut my laptop.

And then I notice him.

I jump out of my seat and point stupidly. “Why are you sitting here?!”

Doe-like, empty blue eyes under a mop of teal hair study me as I attempt to compose myself and sit down again.

“I was sitting here before you.”

I stare at him. I’d been there… twenty minutes. At _least_. I would have noticed someone sitting at a table. Right? He watches me calmly, sipping on a drink. It’s a little creepy, and extremely disconcerting.

“Have we met before?”

His eyes travel to the stack of basketball magazines for a moment. “No. May I borrow your phone?” He repeats, setting down his drink on the table and meeting my eyes. “My battery is dead. I apologize for the trouble.”

His politeness makes me uncomfortable. Anything to get rid of him. “Sure.” I pull out my phone and give it to him.

“Thank you.” He bows low and dials.

I tune out, not wanting to eavesdrop. But I’m startled by a tap on the shoulder seconds later. The blue-haired boy hands me my phone and bows again. “Thank you very much.” I blink, and he was gone.

_“You can’t touch this, you can’t touch this,_

_My, m-”_

“K-kagami.”

“ME’s report is in. Get down here.”

I’m staring at the empty space in front of me.

“Taiga?”

“Mhm.”

“Did you hear me? Get your ass down to the station.”

“Y-yeah. Sure thing.” I shake my head, trying to get that strange little face out of my head. It doesn’t work.


	2. The Sixth Man

“The cause of death was definitely head trauma.” Yukio flips a page on his report. Kasamatsu always looks grumpy, but I know that he’s actually in a good mood today. The half dozen doughnuts that I brought him _may_ have something to do with it. I always bring him something when I work a case, because I know that he doesn’t particularly like me. And since I’m not a patient person, we have a mutual agreement: he doesn’t backlist my victims, and I bring him doughnuts. They’re stupidly expensive and came from this German bakery across town and-

 Enough about doughnuts.

 “A blow to her right temple led to intracranial hemorrhage. She has defensive wounds on her wrists and arms. No signs of sexual assault.” He hands me the file. “There’s no other DNA on her body, but the position of her wounds probably indicates that the murder wasn’t premeditated, and possibly accidental.”

 I scratch my cheek, mulling over the information regarding Satsuki’s disappearance. “It was December.” A picture of the team in front of a snowy stadium springs to mind. It would make sense… “The killer would probably have been wearing gloves. And padded clothing.”

 “It also explains why her injuries weren’t more extensive.” Kasamatsu grudgingly agrees.

“Any idea what caused the head trauma?”

Yukio pauses, his face darkening. “A fist.”

I blinked. “A what?” 

“A fist.”  The examiner gives me one of his famous warning glares. “Read the report before you come asking any more stupid questions.” And with that, he sweeps away, his lab coat swishing dramatically. I can’t help grinning. But as I glance down at the file, it turns into a grimace. This case is already stone cold– but with this information it’s just gone off the deep end into the abyss of… darkness.

I already decided that I’d start by interrogating the people who drew attention to her disappearance in the first place. After my crash course on Japanese basketball over the last decade, I realized that the five of the six names belonged to the Generation of Miracles; Momoi’s middle school team of basketball progeny. The prospect of interviewing them inexplicably intimidated me. I felt like I needed more time to prepare myself, so I decided that I’d set up an interview with the sixth member of the party. 

One Kuroko Tetsuya. 

My preliminary searches had come up empty. The guy didn’t even have a Facebook page or a Twitter. It was almost like he didn’t exist. Still, he seemed like a better prospect than the model or the doctor. The fireman and the baker looked like they would be a bit of work as well. And I couldn’t even find out what Akashi Seijuro _did_ for a living. 

I check my watch. There was twenty minutes before I was due for my interrogation. Just enough time for a doughnut. 

*  
  
“Kuroko Tetsuya’s here. He’s waiting in room D.” Alex informs me as she snatches my doughnut out of my hand on her way to her cubicle. 

I open my mouth in protest, but she’s already at her desk and yelling into the phone. Licking the sugar from my fingers, I grab my files from Himuro’s desk (I use his, since I don’t actually have a workspace at the station), and attempt to wipe crumbs from my jacket. As I pause in front of the door I wonder what he looks like. Other than his education and current place of employment, I know nothing about him. 

I open the door. 

Coincidences annoy the fuck out of me. It’s the universe manipulating you so it can laugh at you. I don’t really like being laughed at. 

“You! With the phone- at-at the diner!” 

I swear there’s a flash of annoyance in those perfectly expressionless blue eyes of his. 

“Kuroko Tetsuya. I was called by Kagami Taiga.” He gives me a pointed look that makes me flush a little. I just wasn’t expecting _this_ man. Anyone other than him and I would have been _fine_. He unsettles me for some reason. “Your message said that it was regarding Momoi Satsuki’s murder investigation.” 

I sit down, warily. “No one said anything about a murder.” That information hadn’t been released. 

He eyes me evenly, tugging absently on his sleeve. “But she was murdered. And now you’ve found her body, so we can have a proper investigation,” he says matter-of-factly. 

How the _fuck_ did he know? I stare at him for a moment longer, until I realize that he’s amused at the fact that he’s rendered me inarticulate. I cough and open my files, biting down annoyance as I gather my thoughts. 

“So, Kuroko Tetsuya. 27 years old. Kindergarten teacher at Sakura Private Institute.” I peer at him over my papers. I can’t imagine him running around after four year olds and stacking blocks. Or smiling. “What was your relation to Momoi Satsuki?” 

“She was the manager of my basketball team in middle school.” 

“Eh? You played basketball with those Miracle people?” 

He _almost_ smiles. “I _am_ one of those ‘Miracle people.’“ 

“But-but I read all the articles and there was no mention of you.” I rack my brain trying to match a younger version of the fluffy hair and watchful eyes to any of the dozens of pictures connected with Teikou. I knew there was no mention of his name – I would have remembered. (And yes, I learned the name of their school. I’m thorough.) 

For some reason, that earns a twitchy little upturn of his thin mouth. He doesn’t reply, so I plough ahead. 

“After middle school, you kept in touch?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

He paused. “Because Momoi-san liked us. She was very affectionate.” 

“So did you two have more than a friendship?” 

The stare I get makes me feel _very_ stupid for some reason. “No. Not on my part.” 

What about her part? I can’t imagine the quiet man in front of me being the ‘type’ for the bubbly superstar manager. Still, stranger things have happened. There’s a certain appeal to his brand of innocent mystery, and he is by _no_ means unfortunate looking. In fact, now that I’m really _looking_ at him, I realize that despite being slight, he isn’t scrawny; and he’s actually sort of… _cute_. I decide to ask another question pertinent to the case to distract myself from wondering about his ass. 

“You were the first person to come forward and ask the police to consider murder.” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

“Because she would never disappear.” There’s no hesitation. It’s the answer someone who _knows_. Kuroko had _known_ Momoi. 

“Did you suspect anyone at the time?” 

Kuroko glances down at his hands. “No.” I get the feeling that he isn’t lying – but he isn’t telling the whole truth either. And the truth is important. 

“Do you remember what happened around the time of her disappearance? Was she in contact with you? Texts? E-mails? Was she upset or distressed?” 

“I received a text message from her the day before she went missing. She said that she turned down an offer from an American team.” 

“Is that something that you think was in character for her?” 

“Yes.” 

His reply surprises me. “Yes? An opportunity to manage an American team would be huge. Far better than in Japan.” 

“Her grandmother was very sick. She was Satsuki’s only relative. Momoi-san talked about how she considered going to America after she passed, but she would never have left like that.” 

“There are nursing homes. I’m sure she could afford it.” 

But Kuroko was already shaking his head. “No. Her grandmother didn’t have long left. American teams had been approaching Momoi-san for years. She always turned them down so she could stay in Japan. I got worried when there were rumors that she was visiting in America to accept an offer. So I came to the police.” 

“Why didn’t you wait? 

“I didn’t need to.” 

I raise an eyebrow. He _definitely_ knows more than he’s letting on, but I decide not to press him. I scribble some notes on the side of the file, and mentally add to my image of Momoi Satsuki. 

“Kagami-kun, may I ask a favor?” 

I blink up at him. “A favor?” 

“Yes. I would like to help you find whoever did this.” 

It takes me a moment to react; I settle on professional politeness. “Thank you for the offer, but the police will do everything we can to find the killer. Any information that you can give us is extremely helpful, thank you. ” I stand up and open the door, making it clear that we’re done. 

Kuroko stands up, and pulls something out of his pocket. He pauses in the doorway and looks up at me.  Those unnerving blue eyes… Dammit, why did he have to stand so close to me?! He smells clean – like soap. I can feel myself blushing. 

“Just in case.” 

It’s a smile. A real one. It lights up his pale face for a moment, and then he’s floating down the hall; disappearing around the corner. 

I have five more people to talk to; and that’s excluding the endless list of potential suspects, which might include an entire professional sporting organization. I don’t have time to get caught up on Kuroko’s perfect ass. 

*  
  
“How did it go?” 

Himuro sits himself on his desk and hands me a paper bag. I ignore the question long enough to attack the burger waiting inside. I’m almost finished by the time I remember his question. 

“Not bad. It looks like _something_ was wrong. Don’t know what yet, but I’ll get there.” 

“The joy of a cold case. No time pressure.” Himuro sighs as he run a hand through his hair. He specializes in fieldwork and avoids paperwork like the plague, but you’d never guess it from his perfectly manicured hands. Alex calls him the bane of her existence. It serves her right for being Deputy Head of something or other. I finish my burger and fish a second one out of the bag. 

“Yep.” I grin cheerfully up at him. I know it annoys him, and that makes me happy. “But there’s a shitload of interrogations. I might have to talk to half the Japanese Basketball Association unless one of these Generation of Miracle people can give me something concrete. And there’s no physical evidence. Yet,” I add hopefully. 

“Tell me what you know so far.” My hamburger disappears into Himuro’s hands. I glared at him, but pull out my page of facts anyways. Stealing food from me is a pastime at the station. Granted, I usually have enough to go around, but that isn’t an excuse. 

“Momoi Satsuki – team manager for Tochigi Brex. Twenty-four years old. Single. Date of the murder tentatively set for December 18th 2015\. Cause of death: head trauma – apparently the blow was dealt by a _punch._ ” I can’t get over that. I’d spent the rest of the afternoon in the lab, hitting things to try and figure out how it could have been done. My knuckles were more than a little sore, but at least I knew that it was possible. 

Tatsuya looks mildly impressed. “Seriously?” 

“It wasn’t like her skull was crushed – or ever fractured. But she was hit hard enough for her brain to bleed. Some of those basketball guys have huge hands – it’d probably be like being hit with a club.” 

“Good point. What else?” 

I continue. “Apparently, things weren’t kosher the last few days before she went missing. She’d been turning down teams in America for years to look after her sick grandmother.” Kuroko’s statement had checked out. Satsuki was internationally sought after – she even did consulting coaching with teams in America and Europe. But she had turned down offer after offer to manage overseas. “But when she disappeared, the first thing that went around was the fact that she was looking into accepting an offer and went over to scout teams. Until it came up that she never left the country.” Why could everyone swallow it so easily? Whoever had instigated it would have had to know her well enough for it to be plausible. 

“Sounds like a lot of work, Taiga. You should get someone to help you.” Himuro throws the wrapper of the burger into the garbage, basketball-style and grins.

“You’re a riot.” I address both his statement and the basketball reference. “You know I can’t play nice with others.” It’s true. Alex tried to hand me interns or junior detectives when I first started. I don’t have the patience to wait for someone to figure out how I work – mostly because I don’t have a method. I just… figure it out. 

Tatsuya sighs and puts a serious hand on my shoulder. “It’s because you don’t trust anyone. Years of interviewing suspects have made you jaded and cynical. But you’re going to have to trust someone someday.” He dodges the pen I throw at him, smirking. “The one-man team will crumble!” He calls threateningly as he disappears into the elevator, blowing me a mocking kiss. 

Tatsuya and I have been friends for too long. He knows all my buttons, even the ones I don’t know I have, and he pushes them as often as he can. I return the favor when I can, but I have more buttons than he does. I suppose he has a point, but my way has been working for me for years. Sighing, I turn my attention back to the case.

Tomorrow, I have an appointment in Kyoto with Akashi Seijuro. I’m not looking forward to it, but since I haven’t received responses from Satsuki’s other friends, I don’t really have a choice. Plus, the email I received sounded like a summons notice rather than a reply to a police officer requesting an interview. 

I’m halfway to my car and playing with my keys in my pocket when I realize that there’s a piece of paper floating around. I pull it out. 

_Kuroko Tetsuya_

_75 862 9696_

I stare at it and wonder how it ended up in my pocket. 

 


	3. Four Corner Offense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be busy for the rest of the week, so I'm updating it early this week! 
> 
> I am... nervous. This chapter is long as because I needed to get all this exposition and information down to move the plot along and I hope that I managed to hit all the notes with my characterization... 
> 
> Comments are always welcome!

“Excuse me, are you Kagami Taiga?”

 I’m still a little groggy from sleeping on the train, and it takes me a moment to realize that someone’s talking to me. I tried to research Seijuro on the train, but after I fell asleep for the fourth time at my keyboard, I gave up. I’m pretty sure I look like hell, but it’s a little late to worry about it now.

 “Yes. Can I help you?”

“I’m here to drive you to the Akashi estate.” 

I realize that he’s wearing a chauffer’s cap. Now I kind of wish I didn’t have a fishbone pattern imprinted on half my face. I follow him to a silver Mercedes waiting on the curb outside the station. As we set off down the wet street, I pull out my phone. There’s a text from Alex and an email…

 

_From: admin@sweettoothbakery.com_

_To: kagami@gmail.com_

_Re: Momoi Satsuki_

_Feel free to come by the shop today._

_\- M_

 

I was almost expecting another formal invitation (or royal summons…) like the one I’d received from Akashi. This couldn’t be any more different, and frankly I’m relieved. I don’t like pomp - it’s a waste of my time. I check my watch and calculate how long it’s going to take me to get back to Tokyo. If this doesn’t take to long and I can catch the next train and be back by noon.  

The car stops slowly, and someone opens the door for me as I’m trying to stuff my phone back into my pocket. It isn’t raining anymore as I step out into a traditional Japanese courtyard surrounded by a rock garden. The whole thing feels like a stage, but I don’t have time to sightsee as I’m dragged off by two servants – my shoes are left at the entrance, my coat gets taken away, and I’m led down an endless wooden corridor. After an eternity, we stop in front of an open sliding door. The room is surprisingly small; I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t _this_. The only light comes from two ornate lamps sitting in on the low table next to a half-finished game of shogi. I make out bookcases and silk paintings on the walls, but can’t see anyone.

“Sir.”

“Leave.”

The man who escorted me bows low and continues down the hallway. That’s when I realize that I’m terrified. I’m a pretty big guy, and I talk to potential criminals for a living, but I can’t get my heart to stop racing. I clear my throat to distract myself. “I’m Kagami Tai-“

“I know who you are.”

A figure folds itself out of the shadows by the outer door in _the_ creepiest way imaginable. He’s actually much smaller than I anticipated. His hair stands out against the pale neutrality of the décor, but I’m too busy trying not to stare at his odd, mismatched eyes. I incline my head politely to avoid having to say anything else. This guy makes me want to go running for the hills.

“You seem competent enough.”

When I look up, the pale man in front of me is smiling. It’s not really a nice smile. He looks like a cat that’s found a mouse in a mousetrap.

“Would it be alright if I asked you a few questions?” I manage, trying to regain some control over the situation. He might be a little shrimp, but Akashi Seijuro has more presence than anyone I’ve ever met. He seems to have his own gravity field that draws you in and doesn’t let you go. It’s fucking _terrifying_.

“I am afraid that there is nothing that _I_ can tell you to assist you with the investigation. However, do not hesitate to request my services if you require any additional resources. My family has ample connections.” His smile doesn’t even twitch. I realize that he probably didn’t have much personal contact with Momoi – or anyone for that matter – but I get the feeling this man knows _everything_. Somehow.

There’s nothing that annoys me more than people who meddle to feed their own egos. Unlike Kuroko’s genuine offer, this just feels like some showy shit. I sigh, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. “Why did she matter to you?” 

“Satsuki was very talented, and I respected her. I do not appreciate being deprived of that talent.” For the first time, there’s an edge in his voice, and I can’t decide if he’s miffed with my rebellious sigh or Momoi’s death. Either way, it turns my soul cold. “I believe you have another meeting, Taiga. I do not want to keep you.” Akashi’s smile is back. “Good day.”

***

I’m sulking. I know that I’m sulking. But there isn’t anyone on the train back to Tokyo to tell me to stop, so I continue to sulk as I wolf down the sandwitch that I bought at the station. I’d woken up at four in the morning for a meeting that lasted five minutes. Why the fuck couldn’t he have offered his _services_ in an e-mail? I suppose it wouldn’t have had the same dramatic impact as summoning to me pat me on the head and tell me that he approved of my involvement in what he clearly considered _his_ case, but it would have been a lot more considerate to just send me a goddamned text message, for Christ’s sake. Pretentious little fucker. I was going to solve this case _on my own_ , just to prove how much I didn’t need his help. That would show him. 

My phone buzzes and I pick up before MC has a chance to yell at me again. “Kagami.”

“Taiga, some hospital called for you. They said that Dr. Midorima has an opening tomorrow at nine. Are you sick?” Alex almost sounds concerned. 

“No. It’s for the case.” Honestly, I felt violated by the encounter with Seijuro. There was no other was to describe it. He just kind of… had his way with you and there was nothing you could do to stop it. I’d really rather Alex not find out how much the encounter threw me off, so I continue, “What did the hospital say?” 

For a moment, all I can hear is the rustle of a bag of chips and munching. “That he’s expecting you at nine tomorrow. He must really have cared about this Satsuki girl if he made time for you on such short notice. He’s the most on-demand cardiac surgeon in Tokyo.” 

“That’s nice of him,” I mutter, writing down the appointment on my hand. “Do you want anything from a bakery?” 

“Ooooh – strawberry shortcake. And maybe come macaroons. See if they have some of those little… ” 

*** 

They had strawberry shortcake. And macaroons. And those little cakes with the chocolate swirls on them. Sweet Tooth Bakery turns out to be pastry heaven, except that you’re not dead but are instead provided with the means to kill yourself with sugar. I don’t really like sweets, but I have to admit that I’m pretty impressed. 

“Welcome!” The perky brunette behind the counter beams at me. “Would you like to taste something?” 

“No, thank you. I’m actually here on police business.” I pull out my police I.D (I don’t have a badge, something about _technicalities_ ), and attempt to smile reassuringly as her face falls. “Don’t worry, I just need to ask Murasakibara Atsushi some questions. I understand he’s the owner. May I speak to him?” 

She looks unsure for a moment then ducks into the kitchen. A moment later she reappears followed by the tallest man I have _ever_ seen. His purple hair is peeking out under his chef’s hat, and he has a half-eaten cupcake in his hand. I knew Murasakibara was tall, but he made _me_ feel short. Today just wasn’t my day. 

“Hello. I’m who you’re looking for. Who are you?” 

I think of the ultra-cultured Akashi and the polite Kuroko and contrast this giant to them. These Generation people sure are a motley collection. “Kagami Taiga.” I flash my I.D again. “You emailed me this morning. I’m here to talk about Momoi Satsuki’s disappearance.” 

“Oh yeah. Aka-chin told me you were coming. Hang on.” He turns the shop sign to ‘closed’ and asks the nervous cashier to go into the back and help herself to some cake. We sit down at one of the tables in the corner. Murasakibara finishes his cupcake happily. “Are you going to ask me some things?” 

“That’s why I’m here.” There’s something distinctly childish about him, and the contrast between his height and his demeanor amuses me. “What do you remember of Momoi’s disappearance?” 

“She didn’t disappear. Someone killed her, right?” A candy bar materializes. “I miss her. She always had the best ideas for new pastries.” I raise an eyebrow, but he doesn’t even notice as he proceeds to munch on the bright-green snack. “She always picked up a special box of pastries on Thursdays. I remember that she didn’t come by to pick it up the day before she went missing. She called me to apologize.” 

“Do you know why she didn’t come?” 

“She said she had to visit Mido-chin. I think it was important, because Mido-chin is very busy.” 

Okay, so she’d visited the doctor. Why? “After she went missing, do you remember what happened?” 

He munched on the last bite of the candy bar and scrunched up his face thoughtfully. “Aka-chin called me and told me that she was missing. And then there was some stuff in the news about her going to America, and then they said that she disappeared. They never found her body.” He informs me matter-of-factly. 

How the hell did the police not look into this more extensively? If even Murasakibara was on board with the idea…  “Thank you.” I stand up. “I’ll be in touch if I need anything else.” 

“Would you like some pastries?” His eyes light up. 

I remember Alex’ order and sigh. “Sure.” 

***

I’m not a morning person on the best of days, and the prospect of a hospital first thing in the morning is not the best incentive to get me out of bed. So I’m pleasantly surprised when I realize that the address I’ve been given isn’t a hospital. It’s not even a private practice. It’s a house. A nice one. My beat up little Toyota looks out of place next to the black Audi on the curb; pretty appropriate for a swanky doctor. I ring the doorbell, trying (and failing) not to yawn.  The door opens suddenly, and a medium-height, dark haired man with shrewd eyes and a mocking smile appears. 

“Good morning!” 

He doesn’t look like Midorima Shintarou. “Is this where Dr. Midorima lives? I’m with the police. I have some questions regarding Momoi Satsuki’s disappearance.” 

His eyes widen a little and he steps back to let me in. “He’s expecting you.” 

I thank him as I take my shoes off, trying not to gape at the giant purple lion sitting by the door. My host seems almost amused as he leads me into the kitchen. A green-haired man wearing a doctor’s coat looks up at us over the rim of his glasses. “Kagami Taiga, I presume.” Why the _fuck_ is there a Hello Kitty figurine next to his plate? 

“You presume correctly.” This guy was already getting under my skin. He’s too smug for his own good. 

“Would you like some breakfast? I’m Takao, by the way. Takao Kazunari.” The other man gives me little wave from the stove and I notice that he’s already making me a plate. Normally I’d object, but I haven’t eaten breakfast and the plate of poached fish and eggrolls that he set down in front of me smells _delicious_. 

As Takao sits down next to Midorima and absently leans over to adjust his collar, I realize that they’re _together_. I blame the lack of coffee, but in my defense it wasn’t difficult to imagine Kazunari being the doctor’s housekeeper. Shintarou bats him away gently, and I stare at their twined hands on the table for a moment before grinning into my forkful of food. They’re an odd, but strangely fitting couple. At any rate, Takao seems to be able to put up with the doctor’s peculiarities. 

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” I manage between bites. 

“We’re all willing to make time to help the investigation now that you have physical evidence to work with,” Midorima replies promptly. 

I don’t even bother telling him otherwise. I’ve come to the realization that these people _know_ , so there’s no point in trying to tell them otherwise. “I understand the victim visited you the day before her death.” 

“Yes. She came to ask me about a doping substance: THG.” 

“THG?” 

He pushes his glasses up his nose. “Tetrahydrogestrinone. Only one pharmaceutical company in the world manufactures it in San Francisco. Until very recently, it was impossible to detect. Because it’s very rare and expensive, only top athletes used it in the past. It’s become more available in the last few years.” 

I scribble this new information in my notebook. “Do you know why she was asking about it?” 

The doctor eyes me for a moment. He’s judging me – deeming me worthy of his cooperation. “She asked about specific cases of high-ranked university-level basketball players that had been sick over the last few months. There was a rash of players getting sick across the country – even one death.” 

“And she suspected that this THG was involved?” 

“It could have been. Although there are a variety of side effects, all of the players’ symptoms could have been attributed to THG. You would think that one or two isolated cases would not have stood out, but there were almost a dozen cases across the country. However, the cases were apparently unrelated and deemed coincidental. No one attributed any importance to them, and if it wasn’t for Momoi-san, I don’t think anyone would have made the connection.” 

I frown. “So was it this doping thing?” 

Midorima sneaks an uncertain glance at Takao. “It’s possible, but we couldn’t give the police enough information to make an investigation plausible.” 

I set down my fork and try to piece together this new information. What the hell did Satsuki get herself mixed up in? And how did this have to do with her death… “Do you think you could get the medical files that Momoi requested?” 

“Of course. I’ll have them sent over to the station as soon as I can.” His helpfulness is a little touching. 

“It’s alright. I can pick them up from your hospital.” I hand him my business card. “Thank you for your help.” I’m itching to get back to the station and research this THG thing. After three days of sniffing around, I might have a lead. 

***  
  
“Jesus Christ, Taiga, you’re here.” Himuro practically assaults me when I get in to the station. He looks traumatized and disheveled. 

“What the hell happened to you?” 

“They made me stay with him until you came in,” he whines, dragging me through the station towards the conference rooms. 

“I-what-who’s him?” 

“Kise Ryouta. He’s one of your suspects, isn’t he?” 

A flawless, beaming face under blonde bangs springs to mind. The model. “Wait, he’s here? Since when? Why didn’t Alex text me?” 

“Because she was having too much fun watching me get destroyed in a game of garbage basketball.” Tatsuya crosses his arms and sniffs. He _hates_ losing. I almost wish that I’d come back in time to see the beautiful spectacle. “He just showed up about half an hour ago and said that you wanted to see him.” 

I pat him on the shoulder and dump my stuff on his already-messy desk. “I’m sure she got a video. I’ll watch it on my 42-inch later.” He groans and stalks off – probably to the shooting range. 

Kise Ryouta turns out to look exactly like in the magazines. If anything, he’s even better looking off the page. What I could do without is his insufferably bubbly personality at ten-thirty in the morning after only two cups of coffee. 

“You’re Kagami Taiga! Kurokocchi told me about you. You’re taller than I expected, but you _do_ kind of look like a tiger. I wonder what Akashicch-“ 

“I’d love to hear some information that’s pertinent to the case,” I growl.   

Kise stops talking, and immediately sobers up. “What would you like to know?” 

Ryouta’s complete lack of formality is actually a relief. Murasakibara required his own special kind of handling, Midorima was too efficient, and Akashi scared the fuck out of me. By contrast, Kise’s practically normal. 

“How well did you know Momoi?” 

“Momoiicchi and I were good friends. I probably saw more of her than the others, since our social circles overlapped. Parties and stuff.” 

“Just friends?” 

He snorts. The question irks him. “Yes.” 

“Did you see Satsuki in the days leading up to her disappearance?” 

“We had coffee on… Monday. She was distracted, and she looked tired. Even with a match coming up, Satsuki was never bothered, but it was the off season so it couldn’t even have been that.” 

“New boyfriend?” I suggested. Part of me still hopes that I can find a romantic angle to this case. Sex is such an easy motive, and if I don’t have to work hard for nothing… 

Kise suddenly looks annoyed. “These are the same questions that I was asked the first time around, and they didn’t help you people find Satsuki’s murderer. Or even her _body_.” His fists ball on the table, and I realize that his bubbly, air-headed supermodel routine is an act. He’s the first person to openly display some humanity in regards to the case, and I can’t help sympathizing with him. I don’t usually allow myself that luxury because I can’t afford to have it cloud my judgment; but there was something so _genuine_ in his reaction. 

I close my file with a sigh as I convince myself that the fact that he’s Kise Ryouta doesn’t have anything to do with what I’m about to do. “Alright. I’m not going to ask you any more questions. I’m just going to listen.” For some reason, his reaction is surprise. He leans back in his chair warily. 

“Really?” 

“Really.” I push the file away from myself for emphasis. 

He suddenly smirks. “Kurokocchi was right about you.” That’s the second time he’s mentioned Tetsuya and the fact that he talked about me. I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t a little bit pleased. Okay, maybe a lot pleased. Ryouta crosses his hands on the table. “Satsuki was worried. She didn’t tell me about what – but it was definitely basketball related. We talked a lot of basketball – because of her job, but also because I love it. I used to go down and play at training matches with the team sometimes.” He smiles softly for a moment then focuses on me again. “She kept saying that something was wrong and talking about the team’s reputation. I told her that she should just go to the police or let us handle whatever it was, but she got angry and said that it was her fault.” He runs a hand through his blonde hair and sighs. “I called Riko and asked her to keep an eye on Satsuki because I was worried.” 

“Riko?” 

“Riko Aida. She’s a trainer now, but she worked with Brex while Momoi was managing. They’ve been friends since high school.” Kise leans forward on the table. “Riko said that she was on it. I texted Satsuki, and she said she was sorry and that everything was fine. But it wasn’t.” I look away uncomfortably when I notice the tears in his eyes. Please don’t cry… 

“It was so long ago. I can’t remember all the details.” He doesn’t _sound_ like he’s crying, so I glance over. He’s upset, but that’s about it. I hold in a sigh of relief. 

“Don’t worry about it.” I shrug and scribble a few notes on the border of my notebook. If the drug Midorima told me about was really untraceable and someone on her team was doping… Momoi was smart enough to figure out that those university students were taking it, so maybe she figured that someone on the team was as well? It was plausible. “You’ve actually been pretty helpful.” 

The reassurance makes him light up again. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” It’s kind of hard not to smile. “At least I know where to start when I’m looking for suspects.” 

“You don’t suspect us?” 

I gather he means the Miracles. “Why do you sound disappointed?” It’s _really_ difficult not to laugh at his pout. Ridiculous man. 

Ryouta sighs dramatically. “I suppose my angelic countenance gives away my innocence.” By now, I’m laughing so hard that I accidentally knock over my coffee. And while I’m glad that the station’s pot is broken and the coffee is lukewarm at best, it’s still extremely uncomfortable. Now it’s Kise’s turn to laugh as I turn away and dab at my crotch with tissues from the table, muttering curses. It looks like I freaking pissed my pants… Great. It’s my luck to make ass of myself in front of the top male models in Japan. Not that I _care_ , but I’d really rather he not tell Kuroko about this. I open the door for him and more or less hide behind it. 

“Thank you for coming in. I’ll be in touch if I need anything else.” 

“I’m sure it’s plenty big.” Kise’s voice is warm in my ear for a moment, and I can _hear_ his smirk. “Have a good day, Kagamicchi!” 

My face feels like it’s on fire. Kagamiichii? Really? I’m a cop for God’s sake. I call Alex. “I need you to go and grab me a pair of pants.” 

She starts to cough violently, probably choking on her coffee. “Whoa there. I know he’s hot, but you’re usually so old fashioned. Unless he agreed to date you, which seems _highly_ unlikely.” 

I didn’t think that it was possible to blush more than I am, but apparently, I’m wrong. “I’m a fucking _catch_. Now shut the fuck up and for the love of _God_ find me some clean pants.” 

While I’m waiting, I decide to try and get in touch with Aomine Daiki again. The firefighter hasn’t replied to any of my emails, and every time I call the fire department he was too busy to talk to me. I’m seriously considering asking Hyuuga to get me a warrant for this guy. 

Someone from the fire department picks up. “Arakawa Ward Fire Department.” It’s practically a growl. 

“I’m Kagami Taiga. Is Aomine Da-“ 

“Stay the _fuck_ away from me.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. The Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the delay in the chapter! To say things have been hectic is an understatement at best... 
> 
> Bi-weekly updates should resume once I'm through with finals, so I hope that this chapter is enough to tide you over until then!

It finally feels like spring; the cherry trees bloomed overnight and there’s no chill in the air as I leave my house without a coat for the first time in months. I even stop to grab coffee from my favourite café on the way to the station. But my sour mood doesn’t even flinch. Why? Two words. Aomine Daiki.

I’d spent my entire weekend trying to get a hold of the last Miracle (who I’d started referring to as Asshat Dipshit). His listed address turned out to be an apartment that was being rented out: the tenants didn’t know where their landlord lived and the fire department didn’t have another address for him. I staked out the station but it turned out that he was on call at the substations, so I never caught him. He refused to pick up any of my calls. This was turning into a fucking nightmare.

Aomine was the last person to talk to Momoi Satsuki and he might be able to help me find some circumstantial evidence that would help me further narrow my list of potential suspects. The fact that there hadn’t been an official investigation meant that there were no statement records or anything useful for me to use, so talking to Daiki was pretty fucking important.

As soon as I get into the station, Hyuuga assaults me and drags me into his office by the back of my shirt.

“How’s the case coming along?”

I’m immediately on guard. He’s way too cheerful for a Monday morning and that’s never a good sign. “O-okay. I have potential motive. Maybe.”

Junpei’s smile gets a little brighter and I wince. “So you have some suspects to go along with this wonderful motive, don’t you? Maybe some of these people that you’ve been running around interviewing?”

I already know where this conversation is going. “Chief, it isn’t any of them.”

“How do you know?” It’s practically an accusation. Hyuuga likes to feel like we have the bad guys cornered from the get-go. It’s just how he functions. I don’t really mind taking my time.

Without an invitation, I sit down in the chair across his desk. “None of them match the psychological profile of the murderer, and none of them had motive. Or – so far, opportunity.” I already considered and discarded the possibility of one of the Miracles as Satsuki’s murderer. Neither Akashi nor Kuroko could have physically committed the murder (although I suppose Akashi could have hired a hit-man); Atsushi’s only motive would have been… stolen snacks; Midorima was finishing his specialization in Osaka; and Kise was… Kise. I hadn’t cleared Aomine yet, and part of me was seriously considering making him suspect #1 just because, but I somehow begrudgingly felt like he wasn’t my guy either.

I know he’s annoyed because he’s fiddling with his figurine of Date Masamune. He always plays with Masamune when he’s about to give it to me. “Listen, you need to wrap this up. Talk to this last guy and get me some evidence. The press has been sniffing around and tomorrow morning I’ve got a press conference. I need details. Get your shit together, Taiga.”

I can’t help pouting a little as I see myself out of his office. How am I supposed to interview this asshole? Right now I have a better chance of winning the lottery than getting two words out of him. Tatsuya’s desk is actually visible, so I’m guessing Alex forced him to come in and do his paperwork over the weekend. Misery loves company, or so they say – I do feel more cheerful knowing I wasn’t the only one being tormented this weekend.

I pull out my file on Aomine. If someone asked me how much time I spent researching this guy, I’d lie. His file is… large, and it’s not even half of what I’ve dug up. Apparently, my friend Mr. Douchebag used to be quite the celebrity in the world of basketball. He was he star of the Generation and there were records of him being interviewed by almost every high school that had even a half-decent sporting program. Everyone wanted to get their hands on him. He chose a team that was on the rise, and in his last year, as captain he led the team to victory at both the winter and summer championships. It took him a year to decide on a university with a basketball scholarship to match his giant ego and he was actually contracted to a national team before graduation. But two years later, he dropped out of school, causing a scandal and a lawsuit with the team that had signed him. He won – since he had actually been playing with the team despite the terms of his contract (something about grades), so the managers had violated the contract first – made a packet and became a firefighter.

I was surprised that despite the overwhelming amount of information that I dredged up regarding Daiki, I hadn’t found anything regarding his personal life. I sigh and run a hand through my hair. He must be a bigger ass than I can imagine if he doesn’t even have an emergency contact publicly listed. Wait a moment… That sounded familiar. Kuroko… Kuroko didn’t have one either.  
When I wasn’t either stalking Aomine or Googling him, I might have found the time to flip through Kuroko’s file. And wondering under what circumstances I could use the number that he’d slipped into my pocket. I’d be lying if I said that he didn’t intrigue the hell out of me. And he’d had the decency to, well, trust me. It wasn’t a reaction that I often got, and it was kind of… nice. He was disconcerting but also kind of cute. I wouldn’t mind a closer look.  
While no emergency contact isn’t exactly concrete evidence, it links Kuroko and Aomine and, right now, it’s the best thing I have. There’s a deadline on my head. Plus, it gives me an excuse to see Kuroko again. Oh, and hopefully get a hold of Aomine Daiki. That too.

*

Sakura Private Institute turns out not to be an institute at all. It’s a colorful little building in semi-traditional style with a few cherry trees lining the playground out front. Since there can’t possibly be more than three or four classes, I assume that it’s just a private kindergarten; mostly from the size of the terrifyingly tiny swings and seesaws. I take a moment to steady myself. I’m no good with children. They’re small and sticky and they kind of scare me.

There’s no one in the foyer, and since I’m not willing to go in any further (the probability of meeting little people will only increase the further in I go) my only option is waiting. I sit in one of the painfully small chairs by the entrance and pray that someone taller than three feet shows up. By the time a small, brunette woman does my legs are cramping and I’m getting sick of playing Angry Birds.

“Have you been waiting long?” She talks to me like I’m five, and I can’t help a smile.

“Not really.” We both know I’m lying. “I’m-uh-I’m looking for Kuroko Tetsuya.”

“Are you a friend of Tetsuya’s?”

“An acquaintance.” Suddenly this doesn’t seem like such a good idea. No emergency number? Really? What the hell am I going to say to him? Is he even in touch with Aomine? Are they friends?

She gives me a once over before her smile becomes a little brighter. “I’ll get him for you.”

Fuck. I’m about to tell her that it’s fine, don’t worry about it, I can come back later, but it’s too late. She’s already disappeared behind one of the colorful sliding doors into a classroom. Great. I talk to potential criminals for a living and then one fuzzy-haired shadow of a man shows up and suddenly I’m nervous. I’m seriously rethinking my questionable decision to-

“Kagami-kun.”

I hear the surprise, because by the time I turn to face Kuroko, he’s wearing his usual unreadable wide-eyed expression. Still, I get the feeling that he’s pleased. He’s wearing an apron over his white shirt and dark jeans, and there’s a smudge of green paint on his cheek. I crack a nervous smile. “I’m sorry to show up like this. I just-“ I cut myself off with a wince, but he continues to stare up at me expectantly. I feel myself flushing a little – how fucking unprofessional can I be? – and opt for the truth. “You offered to help and I could kind of use some.”

Tetsuya carefully sits down on the tiny chair that I’d vacated. He’s small, but even he looks ridiculous sitting in it. I stand awkwardly for a moment before opting for the floor. The blue-haired man gives me a little half smile. “Thank you for taking my offer seriously.”

Thank Aomine Daiki.” I mutter, and suddenly Kuroko suddenly looks up.

“Is he refusing to answer your questions?”

“Y-yeah. I-I kind of need to talk to him, since he can give a testimony of a possible time of death an-“

But Kuroko isn’t listening. “Excuse me.” He stands up, pulling out his phone. I’m bowled over by how palpable his anger is as he strides past me and out of the building.

I’m left sitting on the floor staring at the little flowers painted on the floor. Maybe… maybe I hadn’t been wrong about my guess? These people had known each other for a really long time, so I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised if they kept in touch and… Kise had talked about Kuroko and Akashi, Atsushi knew about Midorima. They were like a private little club. I thought of Midorima and Takao and it occurred to me that there might be more to read into this than I thought. I can’t help feeling a little jealous as I contemplate the possibility of Kuroko and Aomine…  
Kuroko’s entrance distracts me. He’s moderately more relaxed as he sits down again but there’s tightness at the corners of his mouth. I wonder what kind of conversation went down as he hands me a folded piece of paper. It’s pale pink.

“He’ll be there at six thirty. Don’t let him intimidate you.” Kuroko meets my eyes, his face serious. God, he’s cuter than I remembered. Maybe it’s the apron. Or the little smudge. “Kagami-kun, it’s important that you get Aomine-kun to tell you everything. He… He can help.”

But I realize that I don’t really care about Aomine Daiki right now. “I’ll do my best. Thank you so much. You’re really saving my ass.”

Tetsuya blinks and then flashes me a little smile that distracts me further. “Please don’t worry about it.”

I know I’m blushing. I don’t exactly broadcast it, and most people can’t tell that my door swings the other way, but I wonder if Kuroko can see through me. I get the feeling that he… sees a lot of thing that people miss. I think it scares me. I’m usually the one reading people, not the other way around. “In case you can think of anything else.” I pull out a business card and stand up to hand it to him. He glances up at me as he takes it.

“Thank you, Kagami.”

I flee as the recess bell rings, but I’m grinning like an idiot as I climb back into my car.

*

Walking along the street next to the row of empty street-ball courts, I can’t help feel a little nostalgic. Growing up between Japan and L.A meant that I’d never really had a home per se. But I played a lot of basketball both here and back in the States; it was the one thing that didn’t change no matter where you were so I started using it to connect to people. It’s how I met Tatsuya and Alex. And then I went to university and things changed…  
I can hear the dribbling of the lone player on the last court. As I approach, I realize that it’s Aomine Daiki. I’d spent enough time staring at his face over the last few days. He, on the other hand, doesn’t even notice me as he bobs around imaginary players with impressive speed. I’m captivated by the almost lazy grace with which he shoots a basket then comes plunging down the court towards me. He dunks and lands in front of me, ball in hand. A sneer appears immediately and he turns away again, dribbling.

“You must be the cop.”

I bristle immediately. “Kagami Taiga.”

“Whatever,” he snorts.

Wow, he’s an even bigger asshole than I imagined. A disgustingly talented one though – I can tell that much just by watching him score a formless layup of sorts. Why the hell did this guy give up basketball? Watching him is kind of making me want to play… Even though I want to punch him in the face. What the hell. I shrug out of my sweater and step onto the court.

“How about a one-on-one?” I try to sound as casual as possible about it. While I’m annoyed as hell with him, I am kind of desperate to get his cooperation. Something obviously happened the first time around. He’s probably still pissed because the police couldn’t open an investigation. Or give him the time of day. And from what I’ve gathered on him, Daiki clearly needs to feel like someone cares about what he considers his.

Aomine raises an eyebrow and looks me up and down, grimacing. “You’re gonna lose. Badly.”

“Just shut up and shoot.” I glare at him as I crouch down into defense. It didn’t matter if I won or lost. I just needed him to trust me enough – of his own accord. Having Kuroko bully Aomine into seeing me was nice, but I had to do some of the work myself.  
It doesn’t make the fact that he – literally – steamrolls me fifteen minutes later sting any less. “You realize that’s practically assault, right?” I whine as I pick myself up from the floor, rubbing my backside.

He laughs – somewhere between amused and bitter – and tosses me a water bottle. “You’re not really a cop, are you?” I flush a little and angrily down half the bottle. Even keeping up with him was no joke. The man’s a monster. He must still play – or at least train – just for fun. I still can’t imagine what must have happened to make him quit basketball.

Daiki smirks. “You’re not bad. Not great. But not bad.” He sits down on the bench and I join him. Coming from him, that’s practically a compliment. I might as well use the opportunity.

“You know why I’m here.” No point beating about the bush. He grunts as he puts a towel over his head and takes a swig from his bottle. “You were the last person to talk to Momoi. You might be the only shot I have at finding out who could have killed her.”

I watch him carefully as he closes his bottle slowly, his hands shaking slightly. Is he angry? Upset? Fuck. I wish I could see his face. He’s quiet for so long that I’m starting to wonder if he’s ever going to answer-

“She texted me the day she went missing.” His voice sounds steady enough, but I can hear the edge in it. “She asked me to pick her up at some gym after a practice game. She wanted to talk about something. I didn’t check my phone until after I got there. I-I was a few minutes late. I couldn’t find her.” He pauses, his hands clenching between his knees. “There was a voicemail. She said she was going to be a few minutes late. So I waited. And waited.” Aomine’s voice cracks and his head tips forward. “I called Kise and Tetsu. They came. We looked for her. We kept looking for her.” I can feel him shaking and I keep my eyes on one of the trees by the court so I don’t have to see him wiping at his face. “She was like my sister and no one gave a flying fuck. She-If I-“ It’s all too close… I can feel his pain; it hits me hard in the chest and settles into the pit of my stomach. I never get involved with my cases. I don’t really… care. It’s not my job to care. But I think that this – this is what caring feels like. I didn’t expect Aomine Daiki to make me care. I put a hand on his shoulder, and he doesn’t shrug it off.

“Give me a chance. If I don’t find him – if I don’t find him, you can whip my ass on one-on-ones for a year.” Yeah, I’m terrible at this. I deserve credit for trying.

He raises his head, the towel falling away as he glances at me. At least there are no tears on his cheeks. “Like I need you to let me win.”

“You never know.” I stand up, grabbing my coat. “Do you know the address of the gym she asked you to meet her at?”

He rummaged around in his bag, sniffling a little, before handing me an old flip-phone. “I kept the phone. The texts and voicemail are still on it.”

That one little phone is more evidence than I could have hoped for. I restrain myself from doing a victory cheer. “Thanks.”

Aomine checks his watch. “Fuck. I’m going to be late for my shift. Don’t fuck this up,” he growls threateningly.

He isn’t any less of an asshole as he runs to a sleek motorbike across the street and races off – but I can’t help feeling sorry for Daiki – for all the Miracles. They’ve all spent four years with no closure, no nothing. They’ve all just been… waiting.  
Maybe they’ve been waiting for me... It’s probably just my ego talking.


End file.
